


Gumdrops

by tryslora



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Genderplay, Genderswap, Masturbation, Other, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-01
Updated: 2011-08-01
Packaged: 2017-10-22 02:21:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/232648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>George Weasley asked Emma to test out a new product for the shop, and Emma cheerily took a gumdrop. She expected to turn blue, or maybe quack like a duck for an hour. She never thought it might give her a prick.</p><p>Written for my second kink_bingo card, for the "Gender Play" square. This is also for habituation, who requested Emma fics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gumdrops

When George asked Emma if she’d be willing to test out some new products for the store, she had shrugged and grinned and agreed. Why not? She knew whatever it was, it might turn her blue for a few hours, or possibly make her quack like a duck, but it wouldn’t hurt her. And she worked in a joke shop; no one was going to blink if there was something off about her for the afternoon.

He didn’t tell her what the new candy would do, just left her with a purple sparkly gumdrop. She stared at it for a bit, then popped it in her mouth. Mm. Unexpected peppermint! She carefully noted down the flavor (good, but fading too quickly), the appearance (cutesy), and the texture (very _very_ chewy). She waited a few minutes, then glanced in the mirror but didn’t notice anything, so she went back to her post at the till.

“Excuse me, Mr. Shop-person?” The voice came from below the edge of the cashier’s station, and Emma stepped around to properly see the small boy smiling at her. He held out a double handful of small pranks. “I’d like to buy these.”

“It’s—” Emma coughed, her voice coming out hoarse and rough. When the boy looked at her in confusion, and she decided not to correct him. After all, she might be small, but she was small all over, and it wouldn’t be the first time someone thought she was boyish. Instead she rang him up and carefully counted out his three knuts for change, and placed them in his palm. “There y’go. Have fun.”

She coughed again, wondering if she were coming down with something, and maybe she ought to go find a lozenge for her throat. Her voice didn’t sound right, but it didn’t usually just go off like this, either.

“I’ll be in the back for five!” she called out, frowning at the sound of herself, then she ducked into the loo.

Oh, something was definitely off. She didn’t have tits, for one. Now, normally, Emma wasn’t exactly _large_. But she rather liked what she had, and they were most definitely missing.

Wait. Was that gumdrop…? Emma carefully undid her trousers and peered down. Oh. Well then. A small giggle burbled out as a hearty laugh. Gender Gumdrops, apparently. She’d best write that down, so George knew it had worked out, and get back out front. After all, she had a job to do.

She decided, after a few hours, it wasn’t all that different being a bloke than being a bird. Although pissing was different, and sort of fun, and she drank three bottles of water in as many hours, just so she could do it that much more often. After all, there was aim involved, and standing, and when was she going to get to do that again any time soon? She wished there were snow on the ground. She’d heard blokes talk about writing their name in the snow, and she wanted to try it. Maybe George would be selling the gumdrops properly when winter came, and she could buy a few. Just for amusement value, of course.

Then there were the older ladies calling her sonny, and the elder purebloods calling her young man and asking after her family. And two giggling teenage girls who stared and simpered at her for a while, which was just bloody well odd. Did they really think all that giggling and ridiculous behaviour was cute? Emma wasn’t interested a bit, and they finally left after picking out a pale fuscia pygmy puff.

By the time her shift ended, she was only vaguely disturbed to realize she hadn’t turned _back_ yet.

She checked herself in the mirror, trying to decide if her clothes needed to be changed before she went out. She’d worn a simple t-shirt and jeans, and neither of them looked particularly male or female to her. When she tossed a denim jacket over them, she decided she was gender neutral enough to get away with it, and she’d take the whole look out to a pub for a pint or three. After all, might as well test how well it mixed with alcohol, yeah?

#

After three pints, Emma needed to piss. Again. She slid carefully off the bar stool, wavering slightly (where had her endurance gone? Bloody hell, but she was a lightweight as a bloke!) until she found her feet. She made her way back to the loo, hesitating only a moment before she pushed open one of the two doors. It took her a moment before she registered what she saw, the door to one stall propped open, a bloke leaning back against the wall and a girl on her knees before him, swallowing him down.

Bloody _hell_ was that bloke ever hung.

Emma’s eyes widened, and she stared, feeling strange warmth pool in her gut, and a thickening between her legs as she watched, hearing the soft slurp of the girl’s tongue, and the bloke’s groans. She couldn’t seem to _stop_ watching the slide of the girl’s lips over his prick, the way she rolled his balls in her hand. It made her own balls ache, and she realized her jeans were suddenly way too tight. Oh fuck.

She pressed one hand over her crotch, feeling the hard ridge there, and nearly moaned at the sensation. What the bloody hell was she supposed to do with that?

The door opened behind her, and she heard giggles, then a sharp inhalation. Something struck her between the shoulder blades.

“What do you think you’re doing, creeping out in the ladies’?” a girl asked sharply. “Go on, go get your rocks off somewhere else.”

Ladies? “I’m not—”

Small hands pushed at Emma’s shoulders, shoving her towards the door. As she slipped out, she wondered what they’d do about the couple getting it on in the back stall, but really, that wasn’t any of her business. No, she had a larger problem.

She found the mens’ loo this time, and quickly locked herself into a stall and opened her fly. Why was it still hard? She’d just been shoved about and yelled at, and still, her mind kept going back to seeing that bloke’s dick disappear into the girl’s mouth. Her prick twitched, and she moaned at the way it sort of ached and throbbed between her legs. Bloody hell, what was she supposed to do?

Emma pulled out her mobile and quickly dialed. “Michael?” She relaxed as soon as she heard his voice. “Oh bloody hell, thank God you answered. I’ve got a problem. See, I’ve been turned into a bloke, and now I’m hard as a fucking rock, and it won’t go down.”

She pulled the phone away from her ear, glaring at it as she listened to the laughter go on and on. Putting it back in place, she yelled, “Stop laughing! This is a problem! This is a bloody _huge_ problem!” A moment’s paused, then she said, somewhat outraged, “Yes, I meant it like that. Fuck, somehow I’ve got a big prick, but that _doesn’t matter_! How am I supposed to go back out into the pub when I’ve got this in my jeans?”

“Wank.” Michael stopped laughing long enough to tell her.

“Wank?” Emma flushed bright red. “You’re joking, right? Blokes don’t actually do that, zipping off to the loo to have a bit of a wank to make themselves…” her voice trailed off. “Oh bloody hell. They do. You think I’m supposed to stand here in this stall and wank just so it’ll go down.”

“It’s either that or think of old nuns,” Michael told her. “Or Umbridge is a good one. Never failed to deflate me.”

Emma wrinkled her nose, trying to summon up nuns or Umbridge or anyone awful she could think of. Just as she’d think she was getting it, she’d hear a slurp and a soft skin on skin sound, and that was it, she was hard all over again. She groaned. “Fuck.”

“That’s another option,” Michael pointed out.

“Oi, I still don’t shag randomly!” Emma blurted. “Doesn’t matter that I’ve got a prick now, yeah?”

“Just a suggestion.”

He was laughing again. Emma scowled at the phone, but there wasn’t any heat in it. “Bloody hell,” she muttered. “I’m getting you one of these Gender Gumdrops. Wouldn’t it be fun to see you with your own breasts?”

There was a moment of silence, and Emma started to snicker. “Bet you’d never leave the bloody bedroom, would you?” Her snicker turned into a full on laugh. “Right then, I’ll leave you with that thought. I’ve got to deal with this.”

“Have a nice wank,” Michael offered with a snort.

“Michael!” Emma yelled, but he was gone and she flipped her phone closed and shoved it back into her pocket.

Bloody hell. When she looked down, there it was, heavy and hard between her legs, and every time she moved she felt every little touch like tiny prickles of pleasure all over. Carefully she wrapped one hand around the base, feeling the warmth and the softness of the skin over the hard length. Compared to her hands (still small, even for a bloke), it seemed far too long. She stroked once, eyes rolled up at the sudden rush of pleasure. Her other hand shot out against the wall of the stall, and she leaned forward, forehead pressed against the cool metal. “Bloody fuck, that’s just—”

No _wonder_ blokes always went on about wanking. It was like a clitoris, only there was so much more of it to play with. How the fuck did they ever get out of the bloody loo if it always went hard like this, and if it felt this fucking _good_ to fix the problem? She stroked again, moaning loudly as her eyes rolled up, her knees weak. Bloody fucking brilliant, yeah.

She let the wall take her weight, feet slightly spread, hips swaying as she pressed forward, fucking her hand. It was a little rough, maybe, but who the fuck cared, it felt so fucking good. When she reached the tip, the found a spot of liquid, and she rolled that over the head, testing to see what sort of a touch she liked. Oh yeah, rough, pulling, squeezing, just like she liked it when a bloke didn’t treat her breasts like they were made of glass.

Breasts. Nipples. Right, blokes had those, didn’t they?

She twisted around, her back against the wall now to prop herself up, free hand sliding under her t-shirt to roughly tweak one nipple. “Holy _fuck_ ,” she gasped, hips jerking forward, balls tightening. Still sensitive, yep, still so very fucking sensitive.

What about her balls? Not that she had a _lot_ of experience, but blokes seemed to like it when she played with those. She quickly tweaked both nipples to hard points, letting the soft fabric of her shirt fall down over them, teasing them as her hand went lower, between her legs to cup her balls as she still pulled along the length of her cock. Oh fuck. Oh _fuck_. Her knees buckled and she pressed back, head falling back, the cold of the metal wall anchoring. She drew one finger back behind her balls, touching the sensitive place there, crying out as she brushed against it. That was it, it was just too bloody much. Her balls drew up tight, body tensing, and with a loud shout, she felt her cock pulse in her hand as she came in thick spurts.

Bloody _hell_. That was fucking messy. Her eyes flickered open, taking in the spatters of white on her hand, her jeans, the floor… just about everywhere that had been in range. She couldn’t even quite figure out how to do up her jeans.

But as she stood there, she felt her cock slowly soften, and she sighed in relief. Digging her wand out of her pocket with her clean hand, she awkwardly cast a cleansing spell, then tucked everything away.

Her mobile rang, a cheery tune that she’d given to Michael, and she flipped it open as she pushed open the door. “Yeah?”

“Betting you’re better by now.”

Emma snorted. There was no fucking way she was going to explain all of that, and the flush rose to her cheeks at the fact that she was even _discussing_ this. “Yeah,” she mumbled. “Much.”

“Then come out and meet me at O’Malley’s,” Michael told her. “I’ve a pint waiting here with your name on it.”

She could hide, yeah, and not let anyone _see_ her like this. Or she could go out and let Michael buy drinks for her. Didn’t seem a tough decision in Emma’s eyes. “I’ll be there in five, yeah?”

She was going to get more of those gumdrops from George and make sure Michael ate one. A slow grin started. See how far _he_ managed to get without getting distracted by anatomy. She hummed happily as she washed her hands and went to meet her friend.


End file.
